Piece of Cake

John and I have been hard at work baking cakes this week. Around Emelie's 3rd birthday, he started thinking a lot about cake decorating. He wanted to make her a big Tangled cake for the party. He and my sister in law worked so hard on that thing, only to have it start melting the day of the party. We ended up doing the cake before the food, just in time for the tower to start toppling over. It was funny- well in hind sight!

Isn't life just kind of like that sometimes? We place so much work into things and they don't always turn out the way we want them to. I think one of the biggest things we as human beings need to learn, is flexibility. The ability to bounce back. The ability to make a decision to keep going forward.

In going forward, we've kind of started a side project to help bring in a little extra income. It's no secret that we sacrifice a lot of things so I can stay home with Emelie. And it's also no secret that John doesn't want to become a "lifetimer" at his current job (although we are happy he has a job!!!) We hope that this could take off. It's been a really long time since I've allowed myself to dream big dreams. Probably because being a mother is the job I've always wanted- so I feel complete in that. But this new endeavor is something were doing together. I'm excited about it. We did two big orders this weekend (one large cake and 30 cupcakes) plus I made 48 cupcakes for our family Christmas party. I'm excited to see where this goes! It's good to dream again:)

A calm after the storm.... IF you've ever been in a really crazy storm, the kind where you're scared for you life, the moments after you realize everything is going to be okay, bring such a peace of mind. That's how I feel right now. Optimistic. Happy for another day.

The sun is shining- although its still only 20 degrees outside. The little birds (I don't know what kind they are, but they're little!) are jumping from branch to branch in the bushes outside my kitchen window. I've been doing something I love- baking. And getting ready for our family Christmas party. Its always a good time getting together with family. I'm so thankful that we have such a supportive family. I'm grateful that I have aunts who are truly wise, and cousins who always cheer me up. I love seeing the next generation of cousin running around just like my cousins and I used to. My hope is that one day, John and I will add even more little feet to that joyful sound of pattering feet! Being Optimistic:) As Martha says "It's a good thing".

Nine Months....

I've heard many people talk about how difficult the holidays were for them after they lost a loved one. In the months since Oliveah passed away, I've gotten all kinds of emails from people, some that I've never even met, encouraging us and giving their advice (unsolicited I might add;)). Some times the advice was quite helpful, and sometimes it was just awkward. But a lot of people told me how difficult their first year was with out their loved one- whether it was a parent, a sibling, a spouse, or even a pet.

Right now, We are smack dab in the middle of the holiday season. Today is the 9th (well actually its the 10th now...but anyways!). Its the 9 month anniversary of our Oliveah's passing. I didn't even realize it until my husband pointed it out. Its only super depressing when I think about how things would have been. And when I think about those things for any amount of time, you might as well just pass me a bottle of booze! (kind of kidding- I don't drink. But I get pretty depressed about everything).

Nine months. I feel like that's a major milestone. She's been away from us longer than she was with us, in my womb. And to think of what would have been...the milestones we are missing. Its a very upsetting thought. I miss her. I feel like enough time has passed that it shouldn't hurt this bad, but it does. I still go back and forth, feeling mad and sometimes feeling like I'm living in denial. Mostly I feel like I'm just trying to get by! I have responsibilities and a life to keep living. I have a daughter who I love more than anything, who needs me to be here, emotionally. Some days are super easy. Some days I just totally accept what our lives have become. I've become used to the thought that our family is still just the 3 of us. I question how to answer people I'm meeting when they ask me how many children I have. Do I answer it as if Oliveah never existed and say I have one daughter. Or do I say I have 2 daughters, but one of them passed away and cause a bunch of awkwardness. Its not like a miscarriage in that you haven't given 9 months to growing this child and pushing her out. She was a whole fully grown baby. All 7 pounds 6 ounces of her. I still, 9 months later, feel like I should wake up from this bizarre dream.

I still hate matching dresses. Its a slap in the face. I still can't listen to "Use Somebody' without getting teary eyed over the bridge that Emelie used to sing "Oliveah" instead of the actual lyrics. I get sad thinking about the clothing that is going unused that I bought for her ahead of time last year. I get sad when I see Emelie playing so nicely with her dolly, thinking what a wonderful big sister she would have been. I get sad thinking that people won't remember her. Like years from now, when we have other children, she'll be forgotten. People won't know that our family is not complete with out her here with us.

If I've learned anything these past 9 months, it is to love what you have while you have it. Never take for granted what and, more importantly, who God has blessed you with. Life is just sooo short and unpredictable.

To cut or not to cut...that is the question.

Ever since I had a c-section with Emelie, I've been absolutely obsessed with the birthing process. I vowed that I would have a VBAC (vaginal birth after a cesarean) with any subsequent pregnancy. To top things off, I wanted an intervention free, drug free birth. AND on top of that, I really didn't want to go to the hospital to have a baby.  I was afraid that my desire to have a normal birth would be overshadowed by a doctors need to do things the medical way.

So when I found out that I was pregnant again a couple years later, I dragged my feet getting an appointment at a new clinic with a higher rater for VBACs. I dragged my feet getting on my blood thinners for my blood clotting disorder. I educated myself with everything I could. I read everything I could get my hands on about how to have a drug free, intervention free birth. I was absolutely obsessed with all things VBAC.

I was seeing a doctor, actually 3-4 different doctors. And they all agreed there should be no reason to have another c-section, but some of them wanted to use pitocin, which was one of the reasons (I think) that caused my first birth to end in the OR due to fetal distress. I wanted drug free, intervention free. I didn't really even want to be talking to doctors! I wanted to deliver at home. So at 37 weeks, I officially changed from seeing doctors to going to the midwives at the same clinic.

During my first pregnancy, due to the blood thinners, I was constantly being monitored. They took blood all the time, during the last month I had NSTs twice a week and I had probably 5-6 (maybe more?) ultrasounds during the whole pregnancy. I thought I was overly monitored, and racking up a hefty bill at the doctors office! But at this new clinic, they only tested my blood once or twice, they gave me one ultrasound, and I didn't have even one NST. During this pregnancy, I loved that they weren't bugging me all the time! I felt like I was on a good route to get my natural birth that I wanted....

But as things turned out, I should have been bugging the doctors about how the baby looked or sounded in my belly, instead of all the focus being on how she would come out. It didn't even come across my mind that my baby would be born so sick and die with in days of being born. My focus was on myself and my own goals of having a normal birth. Of course I wanted a healthy baby, more than anything. But in hind sight, I spent more time thinking about getting her out vaginally, than just getting her out.

At the time of birth, with how fast she came out, she ripped my inner labia out, so it was hanging out of me (ewww, gross I know!). I was bleeding really bad. Had I been at home having a nice little water birth like I wanted- we both would have died right then and there. I would have bled to death with out a surgeon coming in quickly to sew me up (with took 2 hours). My baby was whisked away before we could even cut her cord, and I only got a quick look at her while they cut the cord. She would have died right then and there if we would have been at home.

So when it comes down to c-sections now, I am seeing them as a life saver. Are there a lot unnecessary cesareans performed, OH YEAH!  But I went home a few days after my c-section with a healthy baby. I went home after my VBAC empty handed to a house full of newborn baby clothes and a carefully placed bassinet. One reason I really wanted a VBAC was cause I wanted to breast feed. I was unsuccessful with Emelie, due to pain at the incision site and my milk never really coming in. After my VBAC, I had a major milk supply- just no baby to feed.

During my pregnancy, I read a lot about VBAC awareness/anti-Cesarean awareness from different blogs, journals, and support group sites. While many of them have good information about VBAC preparation, they won't tell you (well they would never say it straight out) that c-sections can and do save lives. IN a perfect world, every mother would have a perfect birth and a perfect, healthy baby- but that's not how things are! Things can go wrong really fast, and if you're not with people who are prepared to deal with scary situations, you could be putting yourself and your baby at risk.

After re-reading everything I've already written, I might sound like I'm promoting c-section deliveries for everyone. That is not the case. I'm more wanting people to be aware that we can't always control everything that happens during child birth. Things can happen so quickly. Its important to have a doctor or midwife you really trust to do what is in your and, even more importantly, your baby's best interest.

Do I regret going for a VBAC- no. There was nothing that could have been done to prevent Oliveah's passing. It was an incredible feeling pushing her out, drug free, intervention free, sitting on a birthing stool. I will forever remember the feeling of release as she was born. Will I go for another VBAC with any next pregnancy- I'm not sure. Part of me wants to have a planned c-section next time. I'll definitely be going some place where they are overly watching my baby. I'll take them up on every type of tests they offer and I'll be an annoying patient!

Eight Months....

It's been 8 whole months since our beautiful angel baby was born. Not a day passes that she isn't still the first thing in my mind, but I have learned to not let my thoughts linger on the fact that she's not with us. Last month was Infant Loss Remembrance month. It was a long month. But we made it though. I can honestly say that my heart is starting to heal. I'm starting to get on with my life, but there is still no shortage of shed tears. I still have no answers to the "why" questions. There is still fear that any future pregnancy could end the same way.
Recently a very close friend suffered an ectopic pregnancy. It was a definite reminder of how blessed I am. We were talking about how going through this tough stuff makes us realize how blessed we truly are to have the children we have. We hug them a little closer and give extra kisses to our children. I try to spend extra time each day playing with Emelie and reading to her. I spend a little more time fixing healthy meals for her, so she grows strong and healthy.
After 8 months, I've come to be truly grateful of who I have in my life. BUT I still don't like hearing people trying to empathize with me, like they've been in my shoes (unless you did lose a child... then go ahead!!!! Spread your wealth of understanding and knowledge!). I can't stand the super cheery people who try to make you see the brighter side of things. And losing your sister is not the same as losing your child! Its a completely different thing (although I do believe it would be harder in someways- like the loss of a companion, or wanting to tell your best friend something but remembering they aren't there anymore). Its hard going to events where people I know and love are at, because the topic of the death of my child comes up, and sometimes when I start talking about her- I can't stop! Then I feel like I've totally taken over a conversation with a pretty gloomy topic!

But I do feel I am at a better spot today, at 8 months, then I was a few months ago. Life is a little brighter. I try to not think of the what-could-have-beens, and thinking about the what will be's. The upcoming holidays will be wonderful. I will embrace my family and be thankful for what I have!

Death, Four Months, and Songs I Now Hate

This is my first official blog about losing our baby, Oliveah. This blog is going to be my heart. Its pretty much what goes through my head as I write. Writing out my feelings is a really good way for me to deal with them. I want to be frank. I don't want to offend. But I may. I apologize in advance for that:)


Losing a child is something most parents will never have to deal with. For that I am thankful. The pain of losing a child is so great, immense. Unfathomable. It goes against the natural cycle of life. You're born, you grow, you get old, you die. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. Its unnatural to bury your child- or in our case, cremate.

I've never suffered a great loss due to death (ooooh the evil D word!! I hate saying it.). Or at least one that has impacted my life. I lost my grandmother several years ago, and yes, I was sad- but my life went pretty much back to normal. When I think about my grandmother, I remember good times. Playing games with her, watching Soaps with her, and the time she called my sister a "little sh**" for suspected cheating. Our Oliveah was born very sick. And instead of holding her right after she was born, she was whisked away from me, to be put on life support. I never even got to see her eyes open, hear her cry. She was with us for 6 days in the NICU. We had half the world praying for her. I was sure that she was going to be okay. I had a super healthy pregnancy all the way to 39 weeks, when she was born. I don't drink, smoke, I move if some one rudely lights up next to me (or within smelling distance), I took my prenatals faithfully, and I gained the recommended amount of weight during the pregnancy. I did it perfectly! But for some sucky reason, God had another plan.

I don't blame God....okay, well maybe I do- he is the one who gives life and takes it away... I guess I just don't get why he'd take my beautiful baby girl, and leave some idiots who- in all honesty- are never going to get their lives right! I just don't get it!

But its been four months now. I know one day it will get easier, but for now, I live in a super compartamentalized life. I put my Oliveah in a small box in my heart. I open it up frequently, but I try not to leave it open to think on throughout the day. I think that I'd be super depressed if I did that. I'd be thinking about all the things that she missed out on, and how extremely different our lives would be if she was here with us right now. She'd be four months old. Old enough to start cereal and vegetables. I think about all the clothes and things we bought for her, and how they are just sitting in a box, not being used. I don't want to get rid of them. I still have a huge bag of newborn diapers. I know one day, God will bless us with another baby. That baby will not take the place of our Oliveah, but it will bring us happiness and joy! But that won't happen for a long time!

I have to change the song when certain songs come on. We listened to the song "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons the whole ride to the hospital the day she was born. I called it my birthing song. I drew excitement and courage from that song. Now I can't listen to it with out thinking about the day she was born. I also have a really hard time listening to the song "Stronger" by Mandisa. We heard it on the radio the morning she died. I thought it was a totally hope provoking song. And it is. But I thought it was going to be more of a "were going to be coming to the NICU for a long time, this will make us a stronger family". I didn't know that it was going to be more like "Your baby is going to die today, its going to be a horrible experience, but someday, in a million years, you'll be stronger from it". I sure hope that day comes:)